Tag Archives: American Rivers

“We will be nearly finished, I think, when we stop understanding the old pull towards green things and living things, toward dirt and rain and heat and what they spawn.” — John Graves State #50/50: Caught between seasons, my Dad, … Continue reading →

(State #49/50) I spent May and early June trying to shake a raw Northeastern spring. Finally, somewhere in Connecticut, I found summer. For months after, long warm days only proceeded more of the same. Then September arrived. Lingering rains soon … Continue reading →

(State #48/50) Across the mesa and through the arid grasslands, I traveled before halting at the edge of a cliff. Beneath my wheels, a red clay road zigzagged down, coursing the steep walls of the canyon as it descended eight-hundred … Continue reading →

(State #47/50) Night approaches down at the bottom of Glen Canyon. The moon sets to the south, paralleling the opposing canyon wall, absorbing all the light as the land around darkens. Growing brighter and brighter until beaming white, the quarter … Continue reading →

(State #46/50) Morro Bay is an odd town. It’s certainly not Bakersfield, but it’s not Big Sur either. This coastal community is somewhere in between — an agreeable mixture of blue collar and boutique. The waterfront is awash with life. … Continue reading →

(State #45/50) I felt my blood pressure rising as I tried to keep a level voice. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” I said, “but the name of my thing is Canoe50, not Canoe 49 and Kayak 1.” Matching my … Continue reading →

(State #44/50) Nevada fascinates me and little of that fascination stems from the bright light gluttony and celebrated debauchery of Las Vegas. For me, the appeal is in the landscape. Looking at a topographical map, you’ll notice the state’s terrain … Continue reading →